The Moral Advantage
by geekmama
Summary: Same story, different version. Another post-AWE scenario, and this time Jack has the Moral Advantage.
1. Prequel

_**Prequel to '**__**The Moral Advantage**__**'**_

"You got the _Pearl _back," was the first thing Teague said to him. Not _Damnation, it's good to see you safe_, or even just _You're home!_

Jack scowled. "'Course I got the _Pearl _back. What did you think?"

"Well last time it took you ten years. Maybe you _can _be taught."

_Bloody Teague._ "Where's her nibs?" Jack asked, by way of changing the subject. "Quite thought she would have joined you in welcoming the prodigal son."

"She's gone."

Jack stared, trying to ignore the sensation of his insides freezing. "Gone?"

Teague, looking quizzical, raised his forearms and flapped his hands a bit. "Gone. Flew the coop. Took passage back to England with Chevalle a fortnight back."

"Chevalle? _England?_ They'll string 'er up!"

"Says she'll live quiet, with a cousin of hers, 'til the babe comes, then set up on her own. Life in a cottage." Teague shook his head.

Jack, grasping point B, was rendered speechless for a long moment, but finally managed to ask, "She's...?' finishing the query with a vaguely rounded swipe of his arm.

"_With child_, aye," Teague confirmed, looking wry. "Seems the one day was all they needed."

"It's Turner's, then."

"Well, it ain't _yours!_"

Jack set his teeth. Then brushed past and strode up the dock.

"Where're you off to?" his father demanded.

"The Goose, of course. This calls for a drink."

o-o

It called for a great many drinks. As the evening progressed Jack turned it into a game, a sip taken every time she was mentioned within his hearing, and an extra shot every time her Christian name was spoken.

_Elizabeth._

Seemed as though she was held in high regard, had made quite a name for herself, and a number of friends, too, even in the short time she'd been in residence at the Cove.

"She were that easy to talk to, y'see." Molly, Jack's old friend, and now the Goose's proprietress, shook her head. "Did ye know her da was a Royal Governor? But she never put on airs, for all you could tell she were a lady born an' bred." Molly raised her mug of grog. "Here's to you, Elizabeth Swann, and to us as miss you."

Jack downed another shot.

Molly eyed him, and shook her head.

Jack scowled. "She's better off."

"In England?" Molly exclaimed. "She'll go mad, like as not. But she was set that it'd be better for her child and who's to argue? You and I know what it's like here, growing up at the Cove."

Jack frowned blearily. "We did all right, you an' I."

"Well, I'd me Mum and Da, and no girl ever had a better. But you and Teague, that were another story, as I recall -- or do I have it wrong?"

Bits of memory assaulted Jack. "No, you don't have it wrong," he muttered.

Molly patted his hand. "And you weren't the only one. It's a hard place to raise a babe, and that's the truth. I don't blame her for going. But Lord, I do miss her."

"Bloody nonsense," Jack said to himself as Molly walked away, and got up and spent the rest of the evening telling stories, laughing, singing, dancing on (and falling off of) a table, and generally immersing himself in proving that Elizabeth Swann, erstwhile King of Pirates, was nothing to him now, a late and unlamented piece of his past.

o-o

He dreamed of her.

It was many hours after he'd been supported up the winding lanes and steps to his old quarters and poured into bed. They'd kindly removed his coat and boots, but left him clothed atop the covers where he'd drifted off with the room spinning slowly around him and a strangely familiar scent in his nostrils.

"Lizzie."

And, as though whispering her name in the blackness had been enough to conjure her up, eventually, in the night's darkest hour, she came to him, young and sweetly supple, yet straight and slim as a blade, challenging him with eyes and lips, giving as good as she got, until that last time...

_Once is quite enough._

_Is it, Jack?_ Dream Lizzie asked, the hurt and disappointment in her eyes transmuted not to the rueful acceptance that had been their reality but to her old faith and determination as she laid hands of fire upon him and he was enveloped, consumed, torn asunder by another kiss, a kiss to make one forget the world and all its considerations entirely.

His strangled groan was loud in the silence of dawn, and he woke, gasping, bewildered.

And then angry.

Had he not been to Hell and back for her?

Was he some green lad, unable to control himself at the sight of a pretty face?

Apparently.

o-o

His anger smouldered all morning, exacerbated by the worst hangover he'd had in years, briefly eased at the sight of the _Pearl_, tied neatly at the dock and being spruced up under the direction of Gibbs, but flaring time and again as he was unable to resist checking his compass over and over, the odd heading it'd sported in recent days clear to him at last.

Bloody Elizabeth Swann. Turner. Whatever._  
_  
But in the late afternoon he leaned wearily on the rail and looked out at Shipwreck Cove. The sun's rays were turning the mountain of wrecks to something approaching beauty, but it meant nothing, nothing if _she _wasn't there as he'd expected. Been led to expect. He hadn't lived at the Cove for years, had visited only a few times after he'd broken with his father and gone off to make his way in the world on his own, but after... _everything_, something had changed in him.

_You love her too, Jack. Take care of her.  
_  
Will had known, in that unearthly way that seemed a part of him now.

Will wasn't less than human, but he was certainly something more. Jack supposed being Calypso's Ferryman couldn't help but change a man. Will knew Elizabeth would be there waiting in ten years. Nine and three-quarters. That was a given. But it wasn't a marriage between them, not as Will saw it.

_I'll visit, if I can. But things are different here, Jack. Time is different. And there are so many souls that need me._

She needs you, too, mate, Jack had told him.__

She needs a life, Jack. I can't give her that. You gave us our time together, our one day, and I know you will again. But for all the days in between, take care of her for me. For her. For yourself!

Doubt if she wants me. Have you considered that?

But Will had laughed. _Do you know how jealous I was, after we'd rescued you from hanging and it seemed to me you were the only thing she could talk about? And later, before we reached the Locker... _Will's smile had faded._ It was terrible. We both had our secrets, but hers would've killed her without the hope that we could rescue you._

The Locker. Jack shuddered a bit, just as he always did when thinking of it.

She bloody owed him. Not for the Locker, or the Kraken, or even that first kiss, treacherous as it was, but for losing faith in him.

_Will you never forgive me?_ she'd demanded at the Council of the Brethren.

His _No!_ had been a lie. But by God he'd never let her forget. And how could he make her not forget when she wasn't by his side? It didn't make sense!

"Gibbs!" he roared, straightening. "_Gibbs!_"

"Aye, Captain?"

Gibbs came hurrying across the deck, and Jack saw that he was cleaned up and dressed in his best. "Just where d'you think you're going?" Jack demanded.

"Why, the _Pearl_'s neat as a pin from stem to stern, Captain. I was just off to join some of the lads in a celebratory libation, as it were."

"It'll have to wait. There's a couple hours of light left. We'll take on provisions right now and be ready to leave at dawn."

"Leave? But Jack..."

"Dawn. That's an order."

"What's our heading?" There was a note of despair in Gibbs' voice.

Jack took up his compass and flipped it open with smirk that could not be suppressed. "We're going that-a-way."

~.~


	2. The Moral Advantage

_**~ The Moral Advantage ~**_

-o-o-

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?" Teague looked as genuinely saddened as Elizabeth had ever seen him in the few months she'd known him.

But, "No," she said, though more gently than usual. "If I'm going to go I need to go now, so I'll have time to get settled in England before the baby comes."

"England," Teague scoffed. "You'll never be happy there, lass. And a King is a King for life. Jackie…."

"I've served my purpose for Jack," Elizabeth said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "When you see him again, wish him well."

-o-o-

A month later, as dawn began to show in the east, the watchman in the main top of the _Fancy_ shouted, "Sail ahoy!" to those on deck.

Five minutes later Captain Chevalle emerged from his cabin, struggling into his coat, and five minutes after that Elizabeth stumbled up the companionway, electrified by the news.

It was the _Black Pearl_.

"They're less than a mile away! How did they get so close without being spotted?" But even as she said it she knew: unlit, the entirely black ship could not be seen at night.

Chevalle confirmed. "They must have been close enough to identify us at dusk, and you know that she is preternaturally swift." Chevalle lifted his spyglass and peered out at their pursuer.

"Is it Barbossa? We know that he took the _Pearl_."

"That may be," said Chevalle, slowly. "But… I can't see clearly yet, but I do not think it is he."

-o-o-

Jack shouted some order and a puff of smoke issued from one of the _Pearl_'s guns, the shot whizzing over the _Fancy_'s bow.

"The _devil!_" Elizabeth exclaimed, furious.

Chevalle swore too, but then shrugged philosophically and called out orders that would end the chase and allow the _Pearl_ to come alongside.

"You're not going to simply take that from him?" Elizabeth demanded. "It's outrageous!"

Chevalle fixed an amused eye on her. "I have no quarrel with the so beautiful Jack, _cherie_, but I suspect it is not my good self with whom he seeks… eh, how do you English say... intercourse?"

Elizabeth flushed, quite sure Chevalle knew of the word's double meaning. She snapped, "That's absurd. There's nothing between us. There _can_ be nothing between us!"

He raised a brow in patent disbelief, but said only, "Then you have nothing to worry about, _hein_?"

He turned away to go take the helm, and Elizabeth looked out at the _Pearl_ again. At her captain.

_...the so beautiful Jack..._

And he was beautiful, his black eyes locked on hers for a long moment, making her heart thud most uncomfortably. "The _devil!_" she said again, aloud. What did he want? She wondered briefly if there was some news from the Cove, perhaps… Teague? But no. Chevalle was right, Jack wanted her. But why?

-o-o-

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, even as his boots thumped on the deck.

He tossed aside the line and came toward her, his eyes flashing. "I might ask you the same thing, _Miss Swann_. What the bloody hell do you think _you're_ doing?"

"You have no right—"

"I have every right!" he snapped. His hand closed on her arm. "Come with me."

"I will not!" She jerked her arm from his grasp, not without difficulty. "Are you mad?"

"So they say," he growled, glaring. But he seemed to gather himself, and bowed sardonically. "May I have the honor of addressing your piratical imperiousness in private?"

"I—"

"Feel free to use my cabin," Chevalle put in.

Elizabeth glared at the Frenchman, but Jack gave him a nod and a "Thanks, mate," as he took Elizabeth's arm again. "This way, your nibs."

Elizabeth seethed, but decided that it would be undignified to protest further. Chevalle's crewmen were grinning, and Mr. Gibbs was giving a wave from the _Pearl_'s helm. She allowed herself to be escorted aft to Chevalle's cabin, though once inside she jerked her arm from Jack's grasp. Or would have if he had not immediately let her go to secure the door. Her hands clenched into fists. "I could _hit_ you!" she hissed as he turned to face her—to stalk her. And she cursed herself for a coward as she backed away.

"Now that's not fair, seein' as I can't return the favor with you all _enceinte_." He grimaced, and waggled his fingers in the direction of her middle.

She stiffened. "Did Teague tell you?"

"Of course he told me. And that you were headed back to England to set up housekeeping like some underbred dowd of a sailor's wife. Bloody hell! Did I give up immortality for that? Make you Pirate King so you could chuck it all at your first sight of a lee shore?"

"You made me Pirate King for your own ends! That story's finished!"

"Oh, is it?"

She felt the edge of the table against her backside and halted, straightening, glaring. "You left. For Tortuga and… and your _whores_."

"For the Fountain of Youth!"

"Oh, really? And did you find it?"

"In spite of Barbossa's continued treachery, yes, I did." And he drew a carefully stoppered vial from his pocket.

She stared at it. Swallowed hard. Raised her eyes to his. "You mean it's real? Did you drink any?"

"Not yet." He thrust it back into his pocket. "Brought enough back for you _and_ me, though."

She stared at him now. "I thought you hated me."

His mobile face showed a fierce internal struggle, and at last he said, "I wish I could." And then his hands were on her, pulling her close, and he bent and kissed her.

She was horrified. Terrified. Tried to push him away, but the form under her hands, the solid, wiry strength of him, the familiar smell of him… the taste of him! And then it was too late to repine.

But she trembled when he ended it, clung to him shamelessly, fearfully.

Still so close she could feel his breath on her lips, he whispered, "That's what you need, isn't it, Miss Swann?"

She drew in a shuddering breath. "Jack…"

"No worries, love. I have it on the best of authority your kiss can't kill me again."

She frowned. "Authority? What authority?"

"Calypso. And Will, too, for that matter. God, I'm tired of immortals. You sure you want to do it?"

"Y-you've seen them?"

"Aye. There was a bit of difficulty sorting out the _Pearl_'s captaincy, as you may've heard."

"You almost _died?_"

"No—"

"How else would you have seen them?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

She shoved at his chest, exasperated. "Jack—"

"Now don't scold, I'm the one who's doing the scolding here. England. Bah! You're coming back to the Cove, where you belong."

"But I don't belong there!"

"You're King, and your child'll be pirate lord after you're gone, like as not. And more than all that, _you owe me_."

"I owe you?"

"Aye."

Elizabeth frowned, unwilling to admit as much, but unable to deny it, either. She said, reasonably, "I would never have ended up where I am if it hadn't been for you. You and your bargain with Davy Jones. You and your Aztec gold."

"Well, it's Beckett's fault I had to bargain with Jones. Do you want to know what happened between us?"

"I know what happened," she said, "Tia Dalma told us, after… after…" She lifted her hands and plucked at his coat as the memories surfaced... the Kraken taking Jack and the _Pearl_ to the depths... the day, weeks, months of torturous second guessing.

To her surprise, he drew her close.

"Don't think of that now. But as I said, you owe me. I've a distinct Moral Advantage, which is nice for a change, hardly ever happens, really. And since it's apparent I can't forget you, I've decided to keep you by me and enjoy holding your feet to the fire."

_…can't forget you…_

She pushed back a little, staring. Then, narrowing her eyes, she said, "Is that right? And for how long?"

"As long as it takes," he replied, eyes alight, and kissed her again.

~.~


	3. Petits Oiseaux

_**~ The Moral Advantage: Petits Oiseaux ~  
**_

"_Mes enfants_, you have reached an accord!" Chevalle exclaimed as Jack, and then Elizabeth emerged from the _Fancy_'s opulent main cabin.

"It seems so," Elizabeth admitted.

Jack couldn't help his wicked grin at her flushed cheeks.

Chevalle said to Elizabeth, "I took the liberty of sending your things over to the _Black Pearl_, _chérie_."

Elizabeth stared. "You were so sure of the outcome?"

"But of course!" Chevalle waved a Gallic hand and looked Jack up and down with a salacious eye. "Do I not know myself that he is irresistible?"

Jack's grin died and he grabbed Elizabeth's wrist. "Thanks, Chevalle, got to scurry now. Time 'n' tide and all that."

"So impetuous! How I remember!" Chevalle kissed his fingers to them. "_Adieu, mes petits oiseaux_."

They'd hardly reached the _Pearl_'s deck before Elizabeth said, with a wicked grin of her own, "Jack, precisely how well do you know Captain Chevalle?"

"Barely at all," Jack asserted. "Virtually strangers, in fact. But here's Gibbs and the lads to greet you, love."

The crew surrounded her, and Jack, turning back toward the _Fancy_ with a grimace, saw Chevalle laughing and muttered, "Oh, aye. _Très bloody__ amusant_, you old bugger."

~.~


	4. Saved

_**The Moral Advantage, Part IV**_

_**~ Saved ~**_

Among the crew members that greeted Elizabeth on her return to the _Black_ _Pearl_ were the two former Royal Marines, Murtogg and Mullroy.

"We knew the captain would save you again, Miss Elizabeth," said Murtogg with a broad smile.

"She's a _missus_, now!" Mullroy reminded his colleague pointedly.

"Oh. Right. And the Pirate King as well." Murtogg looked distressed.

Mullroy bowed to Elizabeth. "May we offer our felicitations, ma'am."

Elizabeth's brows had risen at the implication that she'd been "saved" from returning to England to give birth and raise her child in the peaceful countryside where her cousins lived, but she only said, "Thank you. You were both there when Jack rescued me from drowning at Port Royal, weren't you? It seems like ages ago."

Murtogg brightened. "Wish you'd been there, ma'am. That was a sight!"

"She _was_ there!" Mullroy said, severely.

"True. Save that I was out of my senses," Elizabeth said, blandly.

"Aye," agreed Murtogg. "The captain, he was telling us that story about how those cannibals made him their chief when we all heard your splash, and the commodore, God rest him, shouted your name from up there on the battlements. The captain shed his effects and made the prettiest dive you ever saw, cut the water clean as a whistle, and all in an instant. Had you back on the dock in a flea's wink."

"Though it seemed a bit longer than that at the time," Mullroy added.

"Wasn't, though," Murtogg asserted, "else she'd be dead now, wouldn't she? Begging your pardon, ma'am."

"Not at all." Elizabeth smiled. "The captain does seem to make a habit of saving me."

"And now you can return the favor," said Murtogg.

"Save him, you mean?" Elizabeth looked up at the quarterdeck where Jack was manning the helm, apparently not trusting anyone else to ease his _Pearl_ away from Chevalle's _Fancy_. "Does he need saving?"

"Oh, yes!" Murtogg nodded, and tapped his head surreptitiously with a forefinger. "Vexed, they say. And that compass of his—"

But Mullroy elbowed Murtogg rather violently at this. Mr. Gibbs was approaching from aft.

"Begging your pardon, but we'd best get to work," said Mullroy.

"Right," said Murtogg, again. But before following his friend, he leaned close to Elizabeth and whispered, "That compass doesn't lie!"

~.~

_**~ Rough Weather ~**_

"Lay aloft and make all sail," Jack roared from the quarterdeck, handing over the helm to the capable Mr. Cotton. "We're headed home – or to the Cove, at any rate."

"Aye, Captain!" Gibbs replied cheerily, and began issuing more specific orders to those who'd been lingering to greet Elizabeth, setting them hurrying to their appointed tasks.

Elizabeth shook her head at Jack as he trotted down the companion ladder to her, trying not to smile.

"What?" he demanded, widening his eyes.

"Jack, are you _sure_ about this?"

"Are you?"

"No. I—"

"Good," said Jack, taking her elbow and escorting her toward the great cabin. "Then we have an accord."

"What sort of accord is that? Jack, we need to talk about this. About… about what I'm going to _do_. And what _you're_ going to do!"

"God's teeth, that's a woman for you. All right, we can talk – over breakfast. I'll go give the order to the cook. You can start stowing your things in the meantime; they're in my cabin. _Our_ cabin."

He'd opened the door and they'd taken a step inside, but now she dug in her heels and turned to him, aware that she was flushing and hoping he couldn't see it in the dim light. "You're making some serious assumptions here, Captain Sparrow."

He gave her a straight look, one brow rising. "So I am," he said, and kissed her, a swift, possessive brush of his lips against hers.

And then, as she stood there blinking, he went out again and shut the door.

**o-o-o**

She did not stow her things. Instead she went to sit on a sea chest topped with a blue velvet cushion that had been placed by the wide windows of the stern gallery. She looked out at the ocean and sky, and tried to make sense of her feelings. These seemed to be as unsteady as the _Pearl_'s decks in a tempest. The calm, mature resignation she'd felt since setting her course for England had been stolen away entirely.

"Jack, you bloody _pirate!_" she said aloud.

And yet her curiosity and an irrational, welling joy could not seem to be contained.

_That compass doesn't lie!_ Did Murtogg's words mean what he'd seemed to imply?

She tried to keep her emotions at bay, but her careful decisions, her reasoned plans were turned upside down. Jack wanted her. He'd wanted to be with her enough to come for her even knowing she was carrying Will's child.

And Will, dear Will who was now lost to her save for that one day in ten years, had sent Jack to her.

Perhaps they both needed saving.

She raised a hand, touched her fingers to her lips, the ghost of Jack's kiss lingering.

What would he want of her? What would he do with her?

She swallowed hard. If he could overwhelm her so with only a kiss – and he'd demonstrated as much twice just in the last hour – what would happen to her if – _when_ – he took her to his bed?

She was no maiden. She was a pirate herself, ruthless at need, a killer. By the time Will had laid her down on that blanket on the sand she'd been honed hard, sharp and slender as any of his blades. It was a day of blood and victory and terrible loss, and she'd been forged anew in his fire, remade into something that held no hint of childhood.

It had not really surprised her a month later, when she realized that Will's seed had found fertile ground. Or that she was ready for it.

But Jack. The pirate she'd read about, dreamed of when she was a girl. In spite of all their shared history – and perhaps because of it – he wanted her. And for the first time in months – maybe _years, _for what she'd had with Will was very different – she felt the heady combination of exhilaration, longing, and apprehension that was the lot of a maid with a man.

"Oh!" she breathed, and bent her head, and placed her hand over the place where her child lay.

**o-o-o**

Having set the cook and his minions scurrying, Jack made his way back to his cabin with a light step. The _Pearl_'s course was set and the ship was making five knots – plenty fast, no need to hurry now that he had what he'd come after.

At the cabin door he hesitated as he placed his hand on the latch, wondering at himself. Gave himself a shake. Opened the door and walked in.

Her trunk and bags were untouched in the middle of the floor and she was sitting at the window, one hand set over her lower abdomen.

"What's wrong?" he demanded sharply, shutting the door behind him and crossing swiftly.

She stood as he approached. "Nothing! I'm fine."

She straightened, raising her chin, trying to look severe, but he'd seen the uncertainty on her face and he scowled right back at her, and set his hands at her waist. "Elizabeth—"

"Jack, we _have_ to talk."

"No, we don't."

"We do!" she insisted, and she pushed his hands away and took a step back.

_Bloody hell_. "Look here," he said, resigned. Ignoring the strong protestations of his inner pirate, he took up his compass, opened it, and showed her.

The needle swung around to point straight at her.

She stared at it, then at him. "That's why it wouldn't work before…. before…"

"Before the Kraken? And the shackles? And that first kiss?" Her look of dawning joy faded and he almost regretted his flippant tone. "As I told you, my compass works fine. Always has."

Her eyes glistened suddenly, and she whispered, "Oh, Jack!"

"Oh, Lizzie!" he mocked. This had to be the baby talking, or weeping, as it were, but he took her in his arms and felt her trembling as he held her close. Flashes of the past intruded: her expression when he'd named her _Pirate_; the way she'd changed, her hopeful vulnerability and disappointment when they'd met in the Locker; and then, soon after, her despair over her father's demise.

She was all too human. But she was like one of Will's tempered swords: strong, beautiful, deadly, and though she might bend, she would not easily break.

She was like him in that.

She made an effort to compose herself, snuffling. "I don't suppose you have a handkerchief?" she asked and he almost laughed.

"Happens I do," he said, taking it from his pocket and handing it to her. As she half turned from him to wipe her eyes and blow her nose, he warned her: "Don't be thinking this gives you some sort of leeway."

She cut him a sidelong glance, and said, wryly, "You know, I'm quite well aware of that. When _I_ had the compass, it insisted on pointing to _you_ much of the time, and look how that ended."

He stared, and then said, slowly, "You…."

"_Pirate_?" She firmly tucked the damp handkerchief back into his pocket, then placed her hands on either side of his face, and kissed him.

**o-o-o**

He seemed to be stunned for the fraction of a second, then drew her hard against him, and Elizabeth put her arms around him. Again she delighted in the animal feel of him, no dream this! She gave herself up to him, to the increasing intimacy of the moment. When he lifted his mouth from hers a fraction of an inch (his embrace strong as ever, however), she said, in spite of her breathless state and pounding heart, "You've not been drinking rum already this morning?"

"You're not going to start in on _that_, are you?"

"I might."

"I had some in my coffee earlier, before we caught up with you. Dutch courage, you might say."

Dutch courage! She kissed him again.

There was a rap on the cabin door.

"That'll be breakfast," he said, his breath cooling her lips. He hugged her, and placed a series of kisses from the corner of her mouth, up her cheek, to whisper in her ear, "I could send 'em away."

"But I'm famished," she said, sounding dazed even to herself. There was a certain glow within showing signs of increasing to a disturbingly familiar ache. She wondered if he could hear her heart beat.

From his wicked smile, it was apparent he could. "I'm famished, too," he purred. But then he loosened his embrace and let her go. "Cook would have a fit, however, and though this may be the place, it's not the time. There's something of a storm brewing, the glass has been dropping all morning. I expect I'll have to be on deck within the next hour or two."

_A storm brewing_. Elizabeth felt that more appropriate words had rarely been spoken. "Not enough time?"

"Not nearly enough, in my opinion."

"Breakfast then, by all means," she said, her mind awhirl.

To her surprise he picked up her hand and kissed it. "No worries, love. We've seen plenty of storms, you and I. I daresay we'll get through this one, too. Steady as she goes, eh?" And he winked at her, and turned to go open the door.

Elizabeth's hands felt cool as she pressed them to her cheeks.

**o-o-o**

There were mild squalls at breakfast.

"I don't know that I want to live at the Cove, Jack," she told him, buttering her second slice of soft tack.

"Well, you surely didn't _want_ to live in England!" he retorted. "You were just running away."

"I was not! It was a perfectly reasonable plan to return there to raise my child."

"Reasonable," he scoffed. "Reasonable if one's not a pirate. And let's have no argument on that score."

"Sacrifices must be made, if one is having a child. Women make them all the time."

"So they do, but you're hardly just any woman."

"I want to be a good mother."

"And who says you can't be one at the Cove? _I_ turned out all right."

Elizabeth sniffed. "You weren't raised at the Cove. Teague told me how it was, how happy the three of you were until your mother died."

"Meddling bastard," Jack said under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. I lived at the Cove for several of my formative years. The old git wouldn't let me back on a ship until I was forced to take matters into my own hands. But not before he'd had me 'prenticed for two years in my uncle's shop in Bristol. Did he tell you about that? Virtual slavery, give you me word."

"Oh, dear. No, he didn't tell me that. But you learned cartography."

"Aye."

"Well there, you see? Your father tried to keep you safe, and see that you learned important skills."

"Lizzie," Jack said, trying for patience, "the _really_ important skills are learned from seamen, and from working a ship."

"The Cove isn't a ship—"

"It's the next thing to one!"

"—and I don't see why we have to stay there."

"Who said anything of the kind?"

"You did!"

"Did not! They've a couple of good midwives there, and we might want to stay until you're…. _er_…. on your feet again. After. And we might want to return occasionally, seeing you _are_ the Pirate King. But we don't have to _stay_. Bloody hell, didn't I teach you anything? The _Black Pearl_ is—"

"—_freedom_." Elizabeth smiled.

Jack's heart warmed. "You _did_ remember."

~.~


	5. Pillow Talk

_**~ The Moral Advantage: Pillow Talk ~ **_

As Chevalle's _Fancy_ sank below the eastern horizon, a squall was rising fast in the west and Jack gave orders to shorten and reef sail.

"Violent, but it'll be over by this afternoon. You stay in here and have a nap," Jack told Elizabeth, and gulped the rest of his coffee.

She was obviously tired after a fraught morning, but nevertheless bridled on cue. "Is that an _order?_ I've been in plenty of storms, Captain Sparrow."

"It _is_ an order," he snapped. "It's not just your own pretty hide at stake if you take a tumble, is it?"

She flushed. "Well. All right, then."

"All right," Jack agreed, trying not to look smug at her swift capitulation. He was apparently unsuccessful. He bent and kissed her pouting lips.

But hours later, when the _Pearl_ was peacefully riding the swells of the aftermath and the rays of sunset peeked from under the clouds to gild the sea, Jack returned to the cabin to find her in his bed, blinking sleepily from amongst the many pillows.

"I'm afraid I could get used to this," she murmured with a smile.

"So could I," he agreed, and was rather astonished at how very true it was.

~.~


End file.
